


Pivot

by MykEsprit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Evil Author Day, F/M, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29476416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MykEsprit/pseuds/MykEsprit
Summary: Hermione crosses that line - again. A story in which mistakes don't really happen. Dramione. Evil Author Day '21.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22
Collections: Evil Author Musings





	Pivot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WordsmithMusings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsmithMusings/gifts).



> Joining the fun because I'm a villain mwahahaha! You can read it cold, or go to the notes at the end for more info on this excerpt. Thanks to WordsmithMusings for creating a home for this little thing.

“Dance with me.” His smile is inviting, but his eyes glint with uncertainty. I cross my arms, matching the tense position of my legs. A double barrier against the circumstances. His grey eyes harden. “Dance with me, Hermione.”

I pull my lips into what I hope is a convincing, conciliatory smile. “Thanks, but no. I’m knackered,” I reply, which is true enough. I had put on an extra layer of concealer under my eyes this morning after a night of restless pacing. And vodka.

Draco squints, like I’m a vexing math puzzle. I fix my expression to something neutral. It won’t do if he solves this particular problem; it’s far too late, anyway. After a moment, he sighs, flagging down a passing waiter. He grabs two flutes and hands one to me wordlessly before taking a seat. “I can’t have this,” he says.

“What?”

“This.” He waves a hand in my direction. “I can’t have you sitting here looking so―” He frowns. “I don’t know. Like your cat died or something. It’s supposed to be a happy day.”

I hum noncommittally, bringing the flute to my lips so I don’t have to answer right away. Champagne bubbles tingle playfully on my lips, its sweet scent taking umbrage on my sour mood.  _ Smile, for God’s sake, _ it demands.  _ I’m supposed to be drunk with a smile.  _ I set the flute down on the table harder than I should have.

Draco’s frown deepens. “Is something wrong?”

My gaze travels to the figure on the dance floor, spinning in her father’s arms. The skirt of her white dress echoes each graceful movement. 

Next to me, Draco’s head is swiveling around. “Where’s Theo?”

“He’s gone home,” I say, hiding my wince. I don’t mention that he didn’t do so alone―not that I mind. Often, our arrangements only last until he finds his flavor of the week. 

Draco stiffens, knocks back the rest of his drink. “That’s not right. He should have waited to escort you home.”

“He’s not my chauffeur,” I say with a forced chuckle. I turn my head towards him, but I can’t bring myself to look at his face. I’m afraid I might see pity there. Or worse―brotherly protectiveness. 

For a few minutes, we sit silently. I glance around the room―everywhere but at him. Guests clump around tables, clad in their finest. Jewels wink from every neck, challenging the ballroom’s ornate chandeliers. Little girls in blush dresses run the perimeter of the dance floor, tossing leftover petals like fairies of the Summer Court.

And Astoria dances in the middle of it all. Beautiful, brilliant. The glowing centerpiece of this lavish affair. 

A warm hand covers mine, a feeling so familiar and yet so foreign. In another life, it had traversed every inch of my body, bold and sure of its territory. But that was a long time ago, and it also never happened. 

I pull away. “Sorry,” I mumble, jumping to my feet. I don’t have the courage to meet his eyes. “I should―”  _ Go _ , I meant to say, but I’m already rushing off. 

“Hermione, wait!” As I pass the lively band, the wail of a saxophone drowns out his voice.

Blindly, my hands reach for the nearest door. I step out into the cold night air, yanking the door closed behind me. A few steps forward, then I take a deep, shuddering breath, like a whale that’s been underwater for too long. When I open my eyes, I mutter a curse. I’m on a narrow balcony. The branch of an oak tree guards the stone handrail, and the only exit is the door which I had come through. 

I can’t even handle daring escapes without fucking up.

As I turn, I hear a click. Draco glares at me, his hands like knots at his sides. He parts his lips to say something, but then snaps them together with an irritated growl.

Music and laughter seep through the walls behind him. My God. I am so selfish. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, picking up my long skirt and making my way past him. My gaze stays glued to the ground. “I think I should go―”

His hand clamps around my arm. “Hermione.” His voice is harsh, but not with anger. There is confusion there, and entreaty. But it’s the note of hurt that makes me finally look into his eyes. He sucks in a breath. Shakes his head, and breathes out―”Why?”

I bite the insides of my lips. I can’t tell him; it never ends well. But he turns me and places a hand on either of my shoulders. I don’t think he realizes how firmly he’s gripping me. The moon is full tonight. Its light turns his grey eyes silver. 

“Why are you being like this?” Draco searches my face. “Aren’t you happy for me?” His voice breaks at the word ‘happy,’ and I finally notice it―the betrayal etched in the downturn of his lips. And I almost laugh because he’s the one betraying me. Even if he doesn’t know it.

Resentment batters my crumbling defenses. “No. Of course I’m not happy for you.” I can’t stop the words from rushing out, a devastating wave as the dam breaks. “I hate that you love her. I hate that you married her. I hate that you look at her like you used to look at me.” I slam my fists against his chest. “You promised me! You promised―”

He shakes my shoulders hard enough that my teeth rattle. “Promised you?!” His gaze flickers over me wildly. “What did I promise you?”

“You said you’ll never love anyone else but me!” 

His fingers dig into my skin. “What?” he rasps.

Tears now flow freely down my cheeks. “You promised me. You promised,” I moan, each word feeling emptier than the last.

Draco bends down so that our faces are level. Gingerly, he lifts my chin so I have no choice but to look at him. There is a storm behind his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says carefully.

“I know.” And before he can respond, I kiss him. His lips freeze beneath mine, at first. But my traitorous body presses against him, and he melts into me. His fingers, still digging into my skin, travel over me possessively, as if despite it all,  _ they _ remember.  _ They _ know his promise, however impossible it might be. Even if  _ he _ doesn’t.

The last thought forces me out of the haze. I wrench my lips from his. My skin is hot, sweltering despite the nip in the air. The music is stifled by our harsh, ragged breaths as we lean our foreheads against each other. Not from any want of intimacy but of support, as if either of us will fall at any moment. For him, I am sure, because I had just devastated the foundations of his new life―destroyed our friendship and the vows he made mere hours ago in one blow. And for me, for what I’ve done.

And for what I’ve yet to do.

“Hermione―”

I press a finger against his lips, savoring the feel of him, knowing this is the last time we’ll be this close again. I won’t fail him next time.

“I love you,” I say. He doesn’t respond becauseI’m already burning up―but not, this time, from his touch. Quickly, it feels like my muscles and bones are melting beneath my skin. My mind lurches from the pain, and I’m blazing, blistering, liquefying―

“Aren’t you happy for me?” Draco looks at me intently. Moonlight shines a spotlight on his face, made unreasonably even more handsome by the tinge of concern. The music trickles outside, reminding me to be lively.

I force my leaden lips into a smile. “Of course.”

His fingers, still on my shoulders, relax a fraction, but his expression is still dubious.

I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to ruin your night.” I laugh, a hollow sound. “I’m just upset that Theo left without me.”

Draco sighs with his whole body. He lets go of my shoulders, only to wrap his hands around mine. A comforting gesture. “For what it’s worth, I think he’s an asshole. He’s never been good enough for you.”

I squeeze his hands. The band on his left ring finger presses back at me accusingly. “Thanks.” We stare at each other for one more moment. His eyes are devoid of passion and betrayal―not anymore, nor ever at all. I am almost set adrift by my loss, but the music throws me a lifeline. “Will you dance with me?”

**Author's Note:**

> This little scene is from an idea in which Hermione was imbued with Time Turner magic. She's able to turn back time whenever she needs to...with some consequences, of course. I had started plotting this out in my head, but then it became...well, something else. Like The Butterfly Effect meets The Time Traveler's Wife. I've since then been toying with the idea of making this an original story, which, maybe someday I'll write in full. Hope you like it!


End file.
